


Merry Month of Malcolm

by Spoonzi



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Car Sex, Come Eating, Consensual Underage Sex, Felching, M/M, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pain Kink, Phone Calls & Telephones, Rimming, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:07:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23955064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoonzi/pseuds/Spoonzi
Summary: My first ever contribution to MMoM in the form of several unconnected little Prodigal Son one shots all including our favorite manic protagonist in some form or another.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright/Vijay Chandasara
Comments: 5
Kudos: 51
Collections: Merry Month of Masturbation 2020





	1. Malcolm Solo

**Author's Note:**

> My absolutely amazing beta for this one was [Cosmic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCosmicMushroom)! Thank you once again for your help! 
> 
> The prompt giver for this one was the lovely [Tess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tess_genor).  
> >> “Malcolm has to try to sound normal on the phone while he is masturbating”
> 
> Chapter Tags:  
> —Pain Kink  
> —Masturbation

Malcolm wakes up hard and wanting from the rare unremembered dream that graces his subconscious once in a blue moon, and he immediately reaches for his phone to check and see if he has the time to indulge himself. Thankfully, he finds that he does, and he drops the phone on the bed beside him so that he can focus on pulling his cuffs off. He sheds his tee and his pajama pants before moving to lay comfortably. 

Closing his eyes, he drifts his fingers over his skin almost light enough to tickle. Malcolm traces a path down the side of his throat, dances his fingertips over the sensitive dip of his collarbone, and strokes the pads of them down his chest until he can tweak his nipples into hardness. He flicks and twists them until they’re tingling and sensitive before he moves down to let his touch brush over his abs and his nails to scratch a light tingle down his happy trail. 

Malcolm doesn’t do the whole self-pleasure thing often. Sure, he occasionally jerks off in the shower or fingers himself open just to feel full, but those instances are mostly a taking-care-of-an-itch type of thing. This, where he takes his time and teases himself the just way he likes until he’s aching for it, only ever happens once in a blue moon. 

He scrapes blunt nails over his hips, where he likes to be bruised up, and presses them into the skin of his thighs, leaving behind little crescent marks that twinge and sting. He can feel the way his cock drips with precum as it slides down his aching shaft and soaks his balls. He tugs them with one hand, rolling and massaging them while he teases at the red marks blooming on his skin. 

Malcolm is denying himself. Ignoring his cock in favor of plucking all of his erogenous zones like the taut strings of a violin. He wants to draw this out as long as possible. He wants to be riding the pleasure and satisfaction of his orgasm for weeks. So, he teases. He pinches his nipples until they’re sore, red peaks. He rolls his balls until they are drawn up tight in pleasure. He scratches lines of pink and red into his pale skin until it’s covered with cross-crossing patterns. 

When Malcolm finally touches his cock, it’s coated with his own precum, and he’s so keyed up he has to just hold it with his fingers squeezed around the base. After a moment, he moves, dragging his hand slowly up and down his length for a few leisurely strokes. He’s adjusting his grip to add the twist he enjoys under the head when his phone rings on the bed next to him. 

Snatching his hand away from where he’s aggravating the scratches over his hip, he slaps his hand down over his phone and fumbles it one-handed until he’s holding it correctly. Idly, Malcolm keeps up his same slow strokes as his eyes focus on the name  _ Gil Arroyo _ . He clicks the green accept button on instinct and almost drops the phone when he brings it to his ear. He swallows, takes a deep breath, and speaks, hoping his voice doesn’t give him away, “Hello?”

_ “Hey, kid,”  _ Gil says, and he sounds almost surprised that Malcolm picked up the phone in the first place.  _ “I didn’t wake you up, did I?” _

“No,” Malcolm responds, trying to keep his voice stable, his skin prickling at just the sound of the older man’s voice. “Why?”

_ “You were dead on your feet last night,” _ is the reply as he closes his eyes so that he can just listen to the gruff voice that always makes him ache with want.  _ “I honestly didn’t think you’d answer.” _ Malcolm soaks in the familiar dragging ‘I’s and ‘A’s of Gil’s speech and relishes the way the phone speaker vibrates subtly against his ear, like the man is actually there talking to him. 

“I woke up just a little bit ago, actually,” he assures, mentally patting himself on the back for not letting his voice break or crack as he twists his fingers around the sensitive glans under his cockhead. 

_ “You sound a little short of breath, kid. You doin’ alright?” _ Gil questions, and he sounds more than a little concerned. Malcolm can almost imagine that voice praising him for not cumming yet; instead, he shivers and bucks his hips at the little lilt the older man’s voice takes when he says ‘kid.’ 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah! I’m fine.” His voice shakes as he tries not to pant. He wonders if Gil would hurt him just the way he likes. If he would leave marks on him with his teeth and his tongue. If he would grip his hips so hard he leaves bruises in the pattern of fingerprints behind. 

“Just, um, exercising.” Malcolm jams his finger down on the little speaker button and lets the phone fall onto the pillow next to his head to free up his other hand so he can stab his nails into the skin at the hollow of his collarbone, where he wants Gil to bite him until he bleeds. 

_ “Right,” _ Gil drags out his ‘I’ a bit more, and Malcolm’s breath hitches at the possibility of being caught.  _ “Exercise. Don’t you usually just do yoga or something?” _

“Yoga is for flexibility,” he explains and swipes his wet thumb over the slick head of his cock, imagining it’s Gil’s tongue instead. He shudders and bites down on his tongue to keep a moan from slipping out, though the pain only adds to the white-hot pleasure stabbing through his spine. “I still, I still do my FBI regimen, too.” He hopes to god the older man doesn’t notice his little stumble, and he drops his hand to scrape and squeeze at the raised marks racing over his thighs and his hips. 

_ “If you’re busy I can call back later, city boy.” _

Malcolm slams his hips up hard into his grip at the drawl of the pet name and gasps out a ‘no!’ before controlling himself and clearing his throat. “No, this is fine. What did you call me for?”

_ “Like I said, you were dead on your feet last night,” _ Gil comments, and there is a shuffling of what sounds like paper on the other end of the line.  _ “You didn’t do your report.” _

Malcolm squeezes his balls a little too hard and moves his hand a little faster, stroking over his length far less leisurely than before. “How, uh, how urgent is that?”

_ “I’ll need you to  _ finish _ it today,” _ Gil says, and Malcolm has to be imagining the emphasis on the word ‘finish’ because he cannot be hearing right. 

He presses his thumbnail into his dribbling slit working his other fingers against the sensitive underside of his cock. “So, uh, you need me to stop by later?” he asks, knowing the answer is obvious but also trying his best not to lose the details of this conversation in his haze of pleasure. 

_ “Yeah, city boy. I need you to  _ come _ by later,” _ Gil replies, and Malcolm has to rip his hand away from his balls so he can sink his teeth into the meat of his thumb as he comes undone. He smothers his moan against his skin as he shakes from his orgasm, arching up from the bed and painting his abs and his hand with cum. He lifts his hand to lap off the salty spend and tries to imagine Gil’s tongue stroking over his skin. Idly, he wonders if he'd share or keep it all to himself.

Malcolm tries to regulate his breathing, but it comes out in ragged pants that are probably too telling. He lies against the bed and stares at the phone, waiting for the disgust to come through the other end. Instead, Gil says,  _ “You could have just told me what kind of exercise you were doing, Malcolm. I might have been able to help.” _


	2. Vijay/Malcolm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you to my awesome beta for this one shot [Cosmic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCosmicMushroom) <3 
> 
> My prompt for this chapter comes from the awesome [King](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akingnotaprincess) who dragged me into MMoM!  
> >>”Malcolm and Vijay in a car.”
> 
> Warnings & Tags:  
> —Underage (17)  
> —Car Sex  
> —Accidental Voyeurism  
> —Cum Eating

Malcolm likes the summertime because, more often than not, he gets to spend it with Vijay. They’re the only boys from the boarding school that live within a few square blocks of each other, so Malcolm gets to be around his friend without the other students. He knows the other boy likes them, but they just don’t understand him the way Vijay does. They don’t get what it’s like having dads who are in, or have been in, jail, and they pick on Malcolm when Vijay isn’t around, calling him names and telling him he’s going to end up just like The Surgeon. 

In the summer, though, when the days are long and the nights feel like more than a beacon for bad dreams, Malcolm gets Vijay all to himself. He gets to ride around in the Chandasara family’s expensive cars and breathe in Vijay’s spicy cologne uninhabited by the smell of the school’s cleaning chemicals and body odor. He gets to cruise the city in the passenger seat and watch the way the other boy’s neck stretches as he looks through the rear windshield or the way the muscles in his arms roll when he drives. 

They’re sitting in the car looking out at the sun as it sets over water filling the sky with an abundance of pinks and oranges. There had been plenty of other teens around earlier, but now Malcolm has to squint down the beach to see the red tents dotting the distance, only standing out because of their stark contrast to the sand. The breeze smells like brine,but it chills his flushed skin and ruffles their hair as it sweeps through the open windows. When he looks over to smile at Vijay, he finds dark eyes already glued to him, and he tilts his head, reaching up to pluck the last of his banana popsicle from between his lips. “What’s up?”

“Just thinking,” Vijay replies, looking back out the windshield as he scratches his fingers over his dark chest. He’s got a bit of hair there—unlike Malcolm—trailing down to his abs and disappearing under his purple swim trunks. He’s also built different, bulkier and more obviously muscled. It’s a testament to how different a 17-year-old can look if he participates in lacrosse instead of ballet. 

Malcolm is svelte with wiry muscle that barely shows unless he flexes his arms or his stomach. His thighs are thicker than most other boys’ from the type of exercises he has to do, though. He knows he has nearly as much strength; hell, he's had a girl balance on pointe on his shoulders without breaking a sweat, but he’s also well aware he’s smaller with softer lines instead of hard angles.

“You know Dylan, right?” Vijay questions after a moment. Yeah, Malcolm knows Dylan. A ginger boy built like a tank who is a whole lot nicer than most of Vijay’s friends. He’d even offered to beat up anyone that messes with Malcolm about his dad. He’d like the guy, if not for the fact that he takes time away from Vijay that he could be spending with Malcolm instead. He hums an affirmative around the yellow treat as he slides it back between his lips. 

“He lives down in Nashville around all of those drive-in movie theaters. He emailed me earlier this week and told me he took a girl to one on a date,” Vijay says, reaching forward to rest his hand on top of the steering wheel. Malcolm eyes that hand as the thumb begins to rub at the leather seam, a nervous tick he’d discovered years ago. “He says he had sex with her.”

“Good for him,” Malcolm praises as he slides the rest of the banana-flavored ice into his mouth so that he can deposit the stick into the grocery bag they’ve been using as a trashcan. 

He can hear Vijay audibly swallow before he asks, “Have you… have you had sex with anyone yet?”

Malcolm’s brain immediately summons the image of himself lying amongst the pillows and sheets of Vijay’s bed. He remembers the first time vividly. Him. alone in their dorm room with his nose buried in the other boy’s spicy scent and his cock in hand, pulling himself to completion faster than he ever had before. “No,” Malcolm says, keeping his eyes trained on the slowly darkening sky. 

“Me, neither,” the other boy admits, and Malcolm can hear him shift. “You want to hear how he did it? He told me.”

He shrugs because why not. “Sure, I guess.” He almost jumps out of his skin when one of Vijay’s large hands slides over his thigh. The warmth of it seeps through the thin fabric of his flamingo trunks, and he peers down at the contrast of dark flesh against the blue and pink fabric. 

“He put his hand right here,” Vijay says, squeezing Malcolm’s thigh. His fingertips reach the inside, drifting too close, too intimate, and Malcolm is suddenly very glad he always tucks to the right. 

Malcolm furrows his brows and swallows down the banana syrup before looking up to the other boy. “What—” he cuts himself off when Vijay’s other hand comes up under his jaw cradling it. 

“He put the other here,” Vijay whispers, his face close and his eyes glued to Malcolm’s. He opens his mouth maybe to tell the other boy to back off, maybe to ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing. He isn’t really sure, but he doesn’t get the chance to because suddenly there are lips on his. 

Vijay tastes like watermelon popsicles and sea salt. 

That’s all that runs through his brain before he pulls back, searching for  _ something  _ on his friend’s face. “Why?” He asks and shoves at the bigger boy’s shoulders pushing him back so that he can curl back against the door. The backs of his eyes sting, and not from the ocean air. “What the hell, Vijay?!” He hisses working his jaw and trying to blink away the tears. 

“I,” Vijay takes a deep breath, “I saw you in my bed a few weeks ago.”

Malcolm goes stiff, his whole body going cold at the thought. “What?” He croaks. 

“I got sent back from the tryout practice early… I punched some freshie for telling me you were going to murder me in my sleep,” Vijay says, looking both mad and embarrassed. “And when I opened the door to our room, you were there. You were on my bed with your face pressed up against my pillow, three fingers inside yourself.” He scratches at his jaw, another nervous habit. “I didn’t come in because I was still angry, and I was confused. But  _ god _ , baby boy, you looked so hot, and I got so  _ hard _ .”

“So, you make up a story to try and get in my pants?” Malcolm groans, shifting. He’s hard, how could he not be when the person he’s been into for years now has been touching him and kissing him and calling him that goddamn pet name? 

“I didn’t make it up, I—I just didn’t know how to talk to you about it,” the other boy explains, and anger flashes through him, hot and red at the corners of his vision. 

Malcolm lurches forward, shoving him back against his door. “I don’t know, Vijay, how about ‘hey, Malcolm, I saw you jerking it in my bed, and I thought it was hot’ instead of putting  _ someone else’s  _ moves on me?!” he growls, smacking his hand against the dark-skinned chest. 

Vijay grabs his arm and yanks him forward sending Malcolm spilling forward gracelessly into his lap. “I’m sorry, okay?” he murmurs, and his lips are less than an inch away. His large hands are wrapped around Malcolm’s hips, thumbs rubbing back and forth over the skin that shows between his tank top and his trunks. His dick is hard and pressed up against Malcolm’s. 

Malcolm grinds his hips down against Vijay’s and watches with acute fascination as the other boy’s Adam’s apple bobs and a muscle in his shoulder shifts. His hands tighten around Malcolm’s hips, but only for a second as his hips jump to meet the grind. “What are you so scared of, hm?” Malcolm leans forward wrapping his arm around the taller boy’s neck. “You already know that I want you.”

Vijay surges up, catching his lips hard. The kiss is sloppy, slick, and tastes like fruit. Malcolm melts into it, kissing back just as erratically. Fingers grapple at his waistband, pulling his shorts down until there’s a sweaty hand wrapped around his dick, pressing it against Vijay’s. Malcolm shifts so that he can wrap his hand around their cocks, as well, and he can’t help but groan into the other boys mouth at the feeling. Vijay’s thicker than his and around the same length. 

Their rhythm is jerky and a little too loose at some points, but it feels  _ so _ damn good. Vijay kisses like he’s starving for it, and the hand that isn’t wrapped around them is hot against the globes of Malcolm’s ass, squeezing and kneading in a way that makes him squirm. Their only lube is the slickness of their palms and the way Malcolm absolutely drips with precum. 

Neither of them last very long, but he’s almost smug when he feels Vijay shudder and cum underneath him, coating their skin with his climax. He uses it to finish himself off, moaning Vijay’s name into pliant lips. They share several more lazy kisses before Malcolm can’t help himself, and he brings his hand up to his mouth. He laps up their combined spend letting the salty musk coat his tongue, erasing all traces of banana and watermelon. 

Vijay moans, surging up to lick into his mouth again, chasing the taste of them together. He pulls back and looks up at Malcolm with such crippling adoration it’s hard to breathe. “God, baby boy, was is so fucking hot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If your 18+ and trash for anything pson join us over on the [Prodigal Son Trash](https://discord.gg/J3YeZmV) Discord Server where I got sucked into this event :)


	3. Gil Solo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My wonderful beta for this was the lovely  
> [Tess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tess_genor)
> 
> This prompt was my own and was simply “Gil with one of [these](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/51TUM2nmz0L._AC_SL1020_.jpg) named Mal”
> 
> Chapter Tags:  
> —Sex Toys  
> —Felching & Rimming Sex Toy

Gil traces his fingers over the pale, silicone globes of the sex toy’s ass. As always it’s smooth and blemishless, sitting innocently where he’d put it on his bed as if it wasn’t something he decided to start using years ago to fantasize about Malcolm. He remembers the day it was given to him, Jackie leaning over the back of the couch and dropping the box on his stomach with a cheeky grin and a request. 

At the time, she had called it Mal as if it was a person. So he called it Mal, too, still does. Jackie had grinned wide at him, excitement sparking in her eyes, as she asked him to fuck it like he would fuck Malcolm. He would always do anything for her, especially when she was looking at him the way she was then, with her eyes molten hot and filled with want. 

He’d been a little overwhelmed by the feeling the first time. It wasn’t like being inside Jackie, hot, tight, and familiar. It was cool, soft, and textured around his cock in a way he had never felt before. It had been slick with a little too much lube making it almost wetter than her. 

The circumstances are different now. For one, he’s not being watched by his loving wife while she talks him through it, her fingers buried deep inside her cunt. Secondly, he’d learned since then to warm the toy up in hot water first,

that he could lick it’s opening in an almost semblance of rimming, and he can use far less lube than he had that first time. 

Gil spreads the cheeks of the toy, bending so that he can run his tongue around the rim of the hole before dipping inside it as far as he can to slick it up. It’s not like eating someone out, it’s looser and obviously not alive. He imagines Malcolm would squirm against his tongue, push back against him searching for more while he licked him open and sloppy enough to slide his fingers in and spread his hole. He doesn’t lap at the silicon hole for long, the warmth from the water he soaked it in will fade if he does. 

He coats his dick with lube before pushing forward to slip into the Mal spreading the cheeks so that he can watch. The feel of the textured silicon is familiar now after five years and if he closes his eyes he can pretend. He can imagine that it really is Malcolm underneath him pulling him in as he thrusts his hips. When he closes his eyes he can imagine that the waist in his hands is larger, less malleable, more human. He can see Malcolm there grappling for hold on the sheets and pushing back to get more of Gil inside him. 

Pretending Bright is there while he fucks Mal always has him cumming a little fast. He always has to stay buried deep inside the hole for a few moments breathing heavily and just feeling his cum filling the toy. When he catches his breath, he moves again, pistoning his hips because he can never go soft after just one climax with Mal. His favorite thing is pumping it full of his seed until it’s overfull and dripping onto the sheets. 

He pants hard as he thrusts looking down at the silicon hole wrapped around his dick as he slides in and out. His dick is covered in his own cum making the movement easier. He moans Mal’s name the next time he cums and this time he has to breath and slow down. His cock oversensitive and surrounded in the inner riges of the toy and two loads of his spend. 

Gil kneads the silicon cheeks and pulls them apart, eyes catching on a bead of his own cum as it wells out from where he’s still half-hard and stuffed inside the toy. He moans and gives another aborted thrust relishing in the way the cum moves within Mal around his cock. He has to thrust slow to keep from letting the oversensitivity of his member hurt, but he wants to climax within the toy one last time. 

It takes longer to wring out his last orgasm but the mental picture of Malcolm underneath him begging for that last load is what sets it off. When Gil pulls out he can’t stop himself from bending back down and hooking his thumbs in the hole, spreading it so that he can watch another stream of his cum escape it. He leans forward and uses his tongue to lap the salty liquid off of Mal’s balls and a moan tumbles from his lips as he follows the trail back up to the hole so that he can suck his essence out of it. 

Gil pictures Bright squirming as he cleans him out with his tongue. He wonders if the younger man would whine from oversensitivity or beg for Gil to leave it inside him, plug him up, and just let him keep his cum. He uses his fingers to scoop out more, letting it drip out onto his tongue so that he can roll the taste around in his mouth and let it coat his throat as he swallows it down. 

The ringing of his phone breaks him out of his fantasy and he sighs when he spots the number for dispatch. He palms the smartphone and tries to think on the night side. Maybe he’ll get to call in Malcolm for this one. 

**Author's Note:**

> Also if you are 18+ and pson trash then check out the [Prodigal Son Trash](https://discord.gg/J3YeZmV) discord server where I got dragged into this event by my new friend [King](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akingnotaprincess)!


End file.
